


homesick for you

by lilyanna



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Adulthood, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Exes YuTen, Getting Back Together, Growing Up is Hard, Hopeful Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25508242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilyanna/pseuds/lilyanna
Summary: Just as he is starting to accept the mundanity of everyday life, Ten meets someone he never thought he would see again.(In which Yuta and Ten were high-school sweethearts who became strangers, and life gives them another chance at being something more.)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: the eyes are the window to the soul





	homesick for you

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the second theme of #yutenweek2020 : Living a teenage dream. I know the idea of this theme was probably to write something in which the characters were teenagers, but I wanted to try taking it in a slightly different direction!!
> 
> This fic is partially inspired by “Just Right” by Grayscale, and the title is also taken from the chorus of that song <3
> 
> No twitter warnings for this one, but there is quite a lot of gratuitous swearing, so proceed with caution with that makes you uncomfortable.

Ten doesn’t even bother looking at what brands he’s buying as he empties half the contents of the instant ramen shelf of the supermarket into his basket. He can feel an old lady staring at him down the aisle, probably judging him. Well fuck her. Fuck this supermarket. Fuck everything and everyone.

He’s had one hell of a day, and not in a good way. Starting it all off by sleeping through his alarm and having to rush to work, spending much more money than he would have liked on an uber, followed by being called into his boss’ office as soon as he arrived. Apparently that was the fourth time this month that he had been late to work. Even though he had tried so hard to make it on time. It was obvious that his efforts went unseen though, both in getting to work on time and the actual work he was doing, being told halfway through the afternoon that he was doing it wrong and would have to start again; all of those hours wasted. They could have told him earlier. They could have not told him at all, and just let him live in blissful ignorance. He’d had to stay overtime to get it fixed. Not that anyone noticed. They’d turned the lights off on him while he was still in the office, clearly unaware that he was still there. It pissed him off. He was so tired.

Tears of frustrating prick at the corners of his eyes when he thinks about it, and he wipes them away quickly on the back of his sleeve. He is _not_ going to cry in the middle of a supermarket aisle, for fuck’s sake. He is an adult. Adults don’t cry, at least not in public. He is, however, going to spend all of his money on shitty instant ramen and eat it while crying in the confines of his own apartment. No one can judge him for that because, as an adult, he can do whatever the hell he wants.

He tucks his now semi-full shopping basket into the crook of his arm and walks down the aisle. If he remembers correctly they keep the alcohol along the back wall. He could really do with a drink; or three. He knows he really shouldn’t, but it’s been a truly miserable day. A miserable week. A terrible month, even. And who’s going to stop him? The neighbour’s cat? No one else has been to his apartment in ages, it’s unlikely any of his friends are going to pop in to visit him on a Wednesday night. That thought just makes him feel even more upset, and he once again finds himself battling the urge to weep, this time by staring holes into the ground in front of him.

With his head down and his hair covering his face, just as he had intended, he unfortunately can’t see very well; meaning that he actually can’t actually see at all. He moves on auto-pilot, down the aisle, past the next, around the corner… Straight into the chest of someone coming round the opposite way.

Ten does not go toppling to the floor like he was in a TV drama. He also doesn’t drop the contents of his basket all over the floor, nor does he get knocked violently into a display. He does, nonetheless, get quite an unpleasant shock, and bangs the very tip of his elbow into the edge of the shelf, which sends shooting pains up his arm. A loud “Fuck!” spills out of his mouth.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry.” That man he bumped into says, and Ten isn’t even looking at him － too busy rearranging his shirt and suit jacket into place － but he freezes. He knows that voice. God, does he know that voice. “Are you alright?”

He raises his head slowly, almost does drop his basket when chocolate brown eyes meet his own. Eyes that he hadn’t seen in over a decade.

“Ten.” He can practically see the realisation hit the other man, the way his mouth hangs open and the single syllable name slips from his lips in an awe-filled breath.

And Ten doesn’t understand, because surely this must be a dream. Surely he isn’t here, in this supermarket in Seoul, at the exact same time as Ten is. There’s absolutely no way. He’s been gone for a third of his life, so why would be back now? It makes no sense. But no matter how much he stares, the illusion does not dissolve; he still finds himself looking at large, round eyes, bowed lips and messy brown hair. It’s really him. “Yuta?”

***

“Yuta? Like, _the_ Yuta? Your highschool boyfriend Yuta?”

Ten cringes at the disbelief in Kun’s voice on the phone, the same confusion that he himself had felt in the supermarket aisle just hours ago. “Yes, my ex-boyfriend Yuta. How many guys called Yuta do you think I know?”

He can’t see it, but he can imagine the pout on Kun’s lips. “I don’t know, you know a lot of people.”

That’s true, Ten has always been one to know everyone. When the two of them were in college together no one could seem to understand why they were such close friends; Kun, with his quiet but sweet demeanour and a small but intimate circle of friends, and Ten. Oh, Ten had been like a hurricane back then. He was friends with practically everyone on campus, enemies to a few, and a lover to many. He had always found it easy to meet and talk to new people, whether it was at clubs or in class or even at the library. He definitely knew a lot more people than Kun. Or, he did.

It’s different nowadays, even though Kun clearly doesn’t realise it. Sure, Ten still has a lot of his college friends, and he has his colleagues from work, and the strangers he picks up or who pick him up in bars on weekends － and that’s all they ever are, strangers. But Kun, his circle of acquaintances and friends is different now. Adult-like. He has his neighbours, and his colleagues, and the mums at school, and his partner’s friends, and the teacher’s he meets at all those teacher-parent meetings and…

As if on queue, the sound of screeching children travels down the line. Kun swears under his breath and pulls away from the mic. It makes a strange noise as he covers it with his hand in an attempt to muffle the sound, but Ten can still hear him calling out to his kids, reprimanding but gentle. It makes him uncomfortable. Makes him remember that things aren’t how they used to be.

“Sorry about that, they’re so energetic lately.” His friend says, coming back onto the call. Ten makes a vague humming noise which he hopes comes across as understanding. “But back to the topic at hand, I thought he’d moved back to Japan? What is he doing here?”

“Beats me, I didn’t exactly stand there and interview him for answers.” He picks at the skin around his nails. Maybe he should have asked more questions; then he’d be a little less lost. “We only talked for like five minutes, and it was pretty empty conversation.”

“Really? What did you say?”

Now it feels like he’s the one being interviewed. “I don’t know! It was just small talk. I asked him if he’d moved back here, he told me he had, but not when. We talked about our jobs, apparently he still does graphic design, but at some firm here. He asked me what I did, so I told him about the office. He seemed surprised that I wasn’t a dancer, for some reason, and asked me if I still did it as a hobby.” He can hear Kun suck in a tense breath, clearly about to go on some sort of pitying and unwelcomingly kind spew about Ten’s past choices. He wants none of it, so he quickly continues. “Then we said to maybe get a drink or a coffee some time, so we exchanged numbers. He’s going to message me this weekend.”

“Wait, you gave him your number?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t like the tone the other is using; already knows where this is going to go. “Why?”

“Ten, this is the boy who broke your heart.” And there it is. The sadness. The pity. Damn Kun for being so mature and thoughtful. Why can’t he just let Ten make stupid decisions? It’s what he does best. “You were absolutely devastated when the two of you broke up, don’t you remember-”

“Yes Kun, of course I remember.” Ten interrupts quickly, a shiver running up his spine. That is one trip down memory lane that he does not want to take. “But it wasn’t all his fault. He didn’t- We broke each other’s hearts.”

“Ten…”

“Listen, it’s just coffee, okay?” He says it slowly enough to hopefully get it through his friend’s thick skull. “We’re just going to have a bit of a catch-up, hear about what we’ve both been up to, and then we’ll probably never speak again. I’m not about to get back together with him or spill my guts about what happened. As far as I know he could already be married. He could have like… a wife and four kids at home.”

God, he hopes not. That would be… really weird. He doesn’t know how he’d even react in that situation. How does one reply when they discover that their ex who left them to go to university in a faraway country and who they haven’t seen in ten years has a family now? What if Yuta wants him to meet his family? That would be the literal worst. He’s probably getting a bit carried away.

Kun pauses for a second, processing. Then he makes a little ‘ah’ sound, one that usually goes with an open mouth and followed by a puzzled expression. They’ve known each other too long. “Isn’t he gay?”

“Bi.” Ten corrects. “And anyway, you never know, sexuality is fluid. People change.”

The unsaid implications of that phrase hang in the air, and neither of them decides to comment on it. They’ve argued about this before, not about Yuta, but about what Kun has named Ten’s “Peter Pan syndrome”. Ten hates that term. He’s pretty sure that’s actually a real thing anyway, not whatever emotional issues he has. And it’s not like he’s stuck as a child. He’s not that incompetent. He’s not in denial of his age, he just wishes it wasn’t happening. Physical ageing isn’t so bad, but he hates the change in surroundings, places and people.

Maybe Johnny is right, and he did peak in high school. And what’s wrong with that? Being a teenager was fun. He had freedom, and fun, and a boyfriend who loved him. It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, but it was something. Something more than what he has now.

The sound of a sigh travels down the line, leaving a second of static in its wake. When Kun speaks again it’s reprimanding, but gentle. The same tone he uses for his children. “Just be careful okay? I just don’t want you getting hurt. You know I care about you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I care about you too or whatever.” That makes Kun laugh, at the very least. “Okay, gotta go now, I have a date with some guy from Tinder! Ciao!”

“Te-”

The call of his name gets cut short as Ten hangs up the call. The cell phone slips out of his hand and onto the couch beside him and he leaves it there, taking a moment to bask in the silence of his empty apartment. If he really strains his ears he can hear someone walking around upstairs, but the place is pretty well insulated. Sometimes he wishes it wasn’t.

He doesn’t really have a date. He hasn’t used Tinder for months, possibly even a year now, after a particularly unfortunate series of hook ups, but it’s a quick, easy excuse to get out of situations or conversations he doesn’t want to have, so he didn’t tell any of his friends that. Not a single one of them has questioned him about it yet. They would probably worry about him if they knew how many evenings he spent alone. Not that they need to; better alone than in bad company.

Tonight he’ll make pasta, he thinks. After all of this he’s lost his appetite for the instant ramen he’d bought. He always has a bag of pasta laying around somewhere. It makes for a nice, easy meal, and while he isn’t the world’s best chef, even he can leave spaghetti on the stove for the right amount of time. He might have bolognese with it, treat himself. ‘Treat yourself for what? You haven’t done anything’ the little voice at the back of his head nags him. He ignores it.

Ten makes his pasta bolognese, not perfectly seasoned but cooked enough to eat, and takes it to eat in front of the TV. He puts on some mindless Netflix sitcom, set in an american high school where all the characters are for some reason portrayed by very beautiful, overly sexualized people in their twenties. It’s not good, but it’s decent, just like everything else. Just about okay enough to get by. He watches it, and eats his food, and tries not to think about the boy, now a man, who had had the leading role in his high school days.

***

The texts arrive at around 4pm on Saturday afternoon, one after another.

**_Unknown number - 4:03pm_ **

_Hi. Is this Ten’s number?_

_This is Nakamoto Yuta, you gave me your number at the supermarket the other day._

**_Unknown number - 4:06pm_ **

_So, about that coffee, would tomorrow morning work for you?_

_I know it’s very last minute, but I have to work during the week._

Ten doesn’t read them until almost six o’clock, and when he does he cringes at the perfect grammar and punctuation. What is this that they’re planning, a business meeting?

He still texts back though.

**_You - 5:58pm_ **

_hey yuta, it’s me!_

_tmr morning is fine by me, is 11 okay? i know a nice place near Gangnam_

It takes barely five minutes for him to get a response. When he opens it, he’s almost unreasonably pleased with himself when he sees the change in the other’s typing style.

**_Yuta - 6:04pm_ **

_Sure, sounds good :D_

_Meet at the station?_

**_You - 6:05pm_ **

_sounds good, see you then_

***

Their meetup is not, as Ten had expected, a painful affair.

Every hour that passed, growing closer to their agreed meet-up time, he had grown more anxious. For starters he makes the mistake of waking up at six in the morning, his alarm rousing him because he forgot to turn it off for the weekend. That gives him a whole five hours to start panicking. He almost calls the whole thing off, twice. But then he doesn’t, and he tredges across town to one of his favourite cafes that he knows he will be avoiding for the rest of his life if this goes badly. When he gets there Yuta is already waiting outside, and they greet each other with a cliched “Hope you weren’t waiting too long”.

It is weird, at first; of course it is. It’s made weirder by the fact that neither of them appears willing to admit the circumstances around their meet-up. It’s like they are both acting, playing the role of two friends who are just hanging out. No one mentions how long it has been since they last saw each other, or why that was. Nothing from highschool is really mentioned at all.

That’s something that does not change, even after a couple of hours, but at some point it stops being a subject they both consciously skirt around and just becomes a topic that doesn’t really come up. They speak of Seoul, and how Yuta’s finding the city after moving back here. They discuss the café they are in, and how nice it is, and Ten gives recommendations for other places to go. That then moves onto the topic of bars, which Ten gets very excited about; not really having anyone else in his life that still wants to go out for more than a couple of post-work beers.

Somehow they end up talking about work, which is a little disappointing, because Ten always ends up talking about work, with everyone. Sometimes he feels like it’s the only part of his life anyone cares about. Talking about it with Yuta is so much more fun, though. He doesn’t tell Ten to stop complaining, nor does he regale him with harsh words for talking about his colleagues behind their backs, and he doesn’t say “that’s just how life is”, not even once. In fact, he ends up joining in with all of the younger’s bad habits until the two of them just end up sitting at their table, bitching about their bosses and colleagues. They laugh so hard that Ten feels drunk, even though it’s not even midday and all he’s drinking is a decaf americano. He ends up leaning onto the table, arms thrown out in front of him, so far that they almost reach the other edge.

“Seriously, the people at the office are the _worst_.” He groans. “And my boss! That guy doesn’t know shit about anything! I bet you whatever you like that he’s probably the son of a big shareholder, I don’t know how else that dipshit would have got the job.”

Yuta gives him a knowing, amused smile. “Why do you work there then?” He asks.

“Because I need the money!” Ten cries as he pushes himself back up. He loves the way Yuta laughs at his brutal honesty. It is a part of his personality that he had always praised. “Isn’t it the same for you? Why do _you_ work at that office?”

The question seems to spark something in Yuta, as he stops laughing so abruptly that it’s concerning. He still keeps his half-smile on his laugh, but some of the sincerity has been lost from it. “Oh, my office is in a convenient location.”

Ten furrows his brows. Location? That’s a weird reason to decide where to work. Even stranger is the look in Yuta’s eyes when he says it, somewhere between nostalgia, regret and something else. It is certainly not happy. Ten decides not to pry. He doesn’t want to offend him, and a part of him worries that he already has, and that Yuta will never want to see him again; which would be a shame, because he’s actually really enjoying himself. He’s not even nervous anymore, just kind of relaxed and… happy?

That worry grows deeper when Yuta calls for the bill shortly after, insisting on paying despite Ten’s protests. However, when they get outside and are saying their goodbyes, it is Yuta who hesitates, pausing outside the door in a way that makes Ten stop as well. If he didn’t know any better, he would think it’s Yuta who is nervous.

“It was really…” The elder starts, swallows. “It was nice to see you again. Could we maybe do this again sometime? If you’re okay with that.”

“Of course we can, I’d love to.” Ten smiles despite himself. He just can’t help it, for some reason. Almost like an afterthought, so quiet that only Yuta can hear him, he adds: “It was nice seeing you again too.”

***

Three months later they find themselves standing together under the cover of a first floor balcony. It was, until a few moments ago, raining, the sky having opened up only five minutes after they had made their leave from a local coffee shop, this time one of Yuta’s choosing. They had already been to three of Ten’s favourite places. The first two had been in a row, but then, a couple of months in, Yuta had insisted on choosing the venue. Then two weeks later it had been Ten’s turn again, and now, only a week after that, they were here.

Yuta had chosen a cafe on the west side of the city, further out than Ten usually ventured unless he was leaving Seoul all together. Somewhere near where he worked, apparently. It was a quaint little place, beautifully decorated with minimalist furniture and potted plants, and spotted throughout with Sun and Moon motifs found on the china, the artworks and the sign of the shop. Apparently Yuta knew the owner, some good-looking guy called Taeil who had come out to say hi to them. Having seen him, Ten’s pretty sure he knows him too, but can’t quite place from where. High school? Yuta’s old friends? It bothered him that he couldn’t remember.

By now they had stopped avoiding the subject of their teenage years, and were so far discovering were a lot of things that one of them had forgotten or that they remembered different versions of. The third time they had gotten together they had had this big argument about the surname of his one girl on the volleyball team was. It was a stupid thing to argue about, really. They almost got kicked out of the restaurant (they had gone for lunch that time, Yuta’s treat again) they were in, and had got more than a few glares from the other patrons. But in the end they had laughed; oh, how they’d laughed.

They had always been a pair, a couple, who argued a lot. People who didn’t know them well would ask if they’d broken up every other week. They never did though, right until the end. In a strange way, they enjoyed their arguments, their little fights. Clearly they both still did; in fact, they both still had a lot more in common than they were expecting. It made it so, so easy to fall back into the way they used to be. With a few changes.

Now when they got caught in the rain, instead of running around in it they ran for shelter. Ten kind of has to, with the glasses he’s forced to wear as office years ago he can’t see through the raindrops. What little rain had caught up with them had left them not soaked, but still uncomfortably wet. Ten pulls a little cloth out of his bag to clean the lenses. When he gets his glasses back on his face he sees Yuta shaking his head to try to dry his hair off.

Somehow he looks younger like this, with disheveled clothing and wet hair plastered to his face. The way it sticks to his forehead reminds Ten of how he used to look when they went to the beach together, or that time they went to an outdoor pool, or how the other used to look when he was freshly showered, climbing back into bed together to sleep after-

“Hey.” Yuta says suddenly, startling the younger out of his memory induced stupor. “I don’t know what your plans for tonight are, but if you’re free I’m going to go visit my grandma, do you-” He pauses, hesitates. “Do you want to come?”

Ten stares at him blankly for a few seconds, his brain not quite processing what it was that he was just asked. He understands all of those words and their meaning. Individually. Can’t make sense of the idea as a whole. It’s a phrase he’s heard the other say many times before, but it somehow sounds so foreign to him.

It was something the two of them used to do together a lot, back in the day (God, ‘back in the day’? What is he, seventy years old?). It certainly feels like a long time ago though. Years and years since Yuta would pull him onto the back of the elder’s bike －a bicycle, they were not old or cool enough for a motorbike － after class and the two of them would go back to his to have a drink and a snack with Mrs Nakamoto, Yuta’s grandmother. He had grown up with her, rather than with his parents, and was the closest either of them had really had at the time to a maternal figure. She was the loveliest woman, always welcoming Ten with open arms, a kiss on the cheek and some joke about her son being a very lucky man that had Yuta blushing adorably every time. She made him feel at home in a way that his own parents never did. Honestly it hadn’t even occurred to him that she would still be alive.

Knowing that she is awakens a feeling of longing within him. How he’d love to hear that throaty laugh of hers again, to have her old, rickety hands pat him on the cheek and ruffle his hair. Still, it feels somewhat strange to go and visit the grandmother of his ex-boyfriend, especially when he isn’t entirely sure where their relationship stands now. But it is Yuta’s idea, right? It’s not like he’s inviting himself in or anything weird like that. And he would really like to see her.

It suddenly occurs to him that he’s been standing silently for longer than is considered socially acceptable. So long, in fact, that Yuta’s had the time to pull a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and light one. Ten wrinkles his nose. He really wishes he wouldn’t do that. As someone who spent time around dancers for too long he has an unparalleled hatred for smoking.

“Sure, I’ll go.” He pipes up, causing the elder to turn towards him and subsequently blow smoke into his face. “Ew. Actually, on second thought, I will go, but only on the condition that you put that thing out. Now.”

Yuta whines, a sound that is a mix of Ten’s name and the word “why”. Ten’s having none of it.

“I’m serious Yuts, I’m not walking along next to you while you’re smoking that shit.”

“You used to smoke all the time.” Yuta continues with his complaints, but he still drops the cigarette onto the floor and squashes it underfoot. The first time he moves off it it still burns faintly, so he goes in a second time.

“I did not. I only smoked at parties.” Ten objects. They both know that that’s not entirely true, but he was never a serial smoker. Well… He winces as he remembers his first year at college, after they broke up, around the time he got really serious about his dancing. Dancing was such a good distraction for everything else. They used to do competitions, and when they did he had to look absolutely perfect on stage, because they were going to be judged by professionals. They won, and they won, and then they lost, and they lost, and then... Then he ended up fucking up not only his lungs but his entire body so irreparably that he was told he couldn’t- Yuta didn’t need to know about that. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

That saying proves to be true, as in his ignorance the elder just shrugs and lets the conversation drop. “We’re going to need to get the bus.” He says instead.

Ten can’t help but be a little disappointed that they’re not biking. Mostly because he hates taking the bus. He remembers that as soon as the two of them clamber on it － each paying their own fee. Yuta seems to own an actual bus pass. It makes the younger laugh. What is he, a functioning adult?

Being on a bus in summer is a bit like being stuck in a massive, grimy pressure cooker. Except it’s worse than that, because there are other people there as well. Particularly at a time like this, the afternoon rush hour, the inside is littered with human bodies, each bringing with them their own smells, sweat and judgemental glares. Not really judgemental, to be fair, just all equally pissed off as each other. At least he could find solace in the fact that everyone else hates the bus as much as he does.

He tries to stick as close as he can to his taller friend (Friend? They are friends now, right?), as if he would get lost if he was left alone. They end up standing in front of a couple of seats, both occupied of course. An elderly man sits by the window and doesn’t so much as acknowledge their presence. Ten suspects he might be asleep. Next to him there’s a pretty white woman with a baby on her lap. The baby starts crying almost as soon as the bus takes off again, much to all the passengers' horror, and in a blink of an eye the woman is cradling it in her arms, whispering to it gently and pressing kisses to it’s forehead until it calms down. She looks exhausted, Ten notices. There are dark circles under her eyes and a crease in her brow that seems almost permanent, and when she talks to the child there’s a level of desperation in her tone. But she also looks at it with such reverence, such adoration for this tiny creature that is obviously her creation. She can’t be any older than he is, if not years his junior. He looks away.

They ride through neighbourhoods that he recognises; tall apartment blocks and miserable looking office buildings. Every time they stop the vehicle jolts. It pushes the two of them closer together slowly. Soon they emerge into an area unlike the hustling-and-bustling of the rest of the city. Here flats are replaced with family homes, offices with schools and shopping centers with playgrounds. The suburbs.

Yuta does not announce their stop aloud, he just leans over to press the stop button and starts walking towards the back door. Ten follows him without question. They come out onto a deserted street which looks like every other street they’ve passed in the last ten minutes.

“It’s about a five minute walk from here, is that okay?” Yuta asks, and gets a nod in response.

They stroll along slowly and silently. The weather isn’t good per se, but it’s not bad either. Kind of grey. It seems like a shame, this part of the city would probably look really pretty on a sunny day. Ten watches the birds moving from tree to tree, and when he tires of that he moves to just staring at their feet. Somehow, without him realising it, they’ve started walking in sync, both putting their right foot forward first and then their left. He wonders if the elder is aware of this, or if he has even done it on purpose.

As distracted as he gets by looking down, he fails to notice when Yuta stops － has to backtrack a couple of steps. When he looks up he sees a low, wide building with terracotta walls and cream furnishings, windows leading out onto balconies and surrounded by a gated garden consisting entirely in grass and small paved sections. It’s the wrong size and shape to be a house. There’s a sign above the door, chipped in the corners. It explains that this is a care home.

Even having previous thoughts about Mrs Nakamoto’s age, Ten startles when he realises what that means. He was fine thinking that she might be dead, but being confronted with the reality of her age and possible sickness that it brings is so much scarier. The thoughts are fine, the reality is harder to swallow.

Yuta must notice his change in demeanour, as he smiles knowingly before explaining, “She’s been staying here for a few years now. It became too difficult for me to care for her while also working, and she didn’t want me to give up my own place to live with her, so…”

Ten just nods again, not sure what to say. When did it become so hard to find the words? They've always talked for hours on end, about everything and anything, and about nothing at all. Now all he can do is reach for his companion’s hand and give it a small squeeze. He curses at the way his heart skips a beat when he feels the other squeeze back.

They make their way inside, Yuta exchanging a quick greeting with some of what must be staff, all of which seem to recognise him. Ten doesn’t know how to feel about it all. On the one hand he’s excited about seeing his favourite old lady again, but on the other… There’s something institutional about this place that makes him uncomfortable. Hospital-like. He hates hospitals. Spent too much time in one of them. So many appointments, so much bad news. This place had nice furniture so that’s an improvement, he’s not sure what he would have done if he had to sit on another of those metal benches.

As they draw closer to Mrs Nakamoto’s room it occurs to him that he’s probably turning up completely unannounced. How is he going to explain to this woman that he hasn’t seen in ten years why he’s here? Has Yuta even explained why it was that he stopped going to see her in the first place? What if she thinks he hates her or something? Worse, what if she hates him? What if-

The door swings open gently. The little old lady by the window looks up from where she’s seated. Dark, wrinkle-lined eyes meet his, and, before he can say anything, they morph into a smile.

“Tennie!” She cries eagerly. Her voice is just as he remembers it, baring that deep, gravely quality that so many elderly women develop. “Oh, my dear, it’s been so long! How are you? Come in, come in.”

The two of them shuffle inside. Yuta walks over to kiss her on the cheek, whispering soft words in Japanese that Ten doesn’t understand. He does understand her response though, clearly a teasing reprimand; she even pinches his cheeks.

“Hi nana.” Ten says when it’s his turn, smiling to himself at the nickname. It has been a long time since he last said that. “How have you been doing?”

Mrs Nakamoto kisses his cheek when he leans down, then gives the other side a quick pat. “You know me, I’m always just fine. Getting younger every day!” She barks out a laugh that could easily be confused with a cough. “More important, how are you doing Tennie? You look… different. Did you cut your hair?”

He almost laughs. Of course, even though he’s aged a full twelve years since the last time she saw him, the only thing that she notices is his hairstyle. In a silly way it makes him feel young again.

They fall into easy chit-chat, largely about topics of little significance. Mrs Nakamoto tells the two of them about the latest gossip at the home, something that Ten finds very funny and Yuta, if his expression is anything to go by, has already heard many times before. Ten tells her about the neighbour that moved into his block last week. They talk about the weather, and the football, and which politician said what on the afternoon news. Yuta updates her on the lives of their family, an action that Ten finds peculiar not only because he’s not sure why it’s Yuta’s job to do that, but because Mrs Nakamoto doesn’t seem to know who about half these people are. He doesn’t miss the way Yuta’s smile falters when she fails to recognise a name.

However, despite those little mishaps, it’s the happiest Ten has felt in a while. He doesn’t realise it at first, but at some point he stops worrying, stops questioning, and just falls back into what feels like routine. It’s like he’s seventeen again － not having a perfect life, but a simple one. A life which consists in going to school, complaining about homework to his friends and hanging out with his boyfriend after class. A life of sneaking cigarettes round the back of the gym, of worrying about his grades and pimples instead of taxes and rent and losing his job and his health and his age and his friends all leaving him behind and how it was that it had all gone so, so wrong.

The clouds outside part and sunlight filters in through the window. Mrs Nakamoto laughs at something he says. He swings his leg over Yuta’s knee without thinking about it and, instead of pulling away, the elder places a protective hand on his thigh. Strong, warm.

Home.

The word pops into his mind unbidden but no unwelcome, hitting him at first like a shock to the system and then mellowing into something softer.

“Are you alright dear?” Mrs Nakamoto asks him gently, clearly having picked up on how silent he’d fallen.

Ten feels both of their eyes on him. He fights the lump forming in his throat, not entirely sure why he feels like crying in the first place. Yuta seems to think of something and starts to pull his hand away; he raises an eyebrow when Ten’s own hand shoots out to hold it in place. They share a look, both as shocked as each other, which ends when they look away, blushing like schoolboys. Their hands stay in place.

“Yes nana, I’m fine.” He assures her with a smile.

She looks between the two of them slowly, and a smile of her own, wise and knowing in that way that only older people can master, grows on her lips. There’s a knock at the door, followed by a young woman in uniform peering inside.

She directs her words not at Mrs Nakamoto, but at her grandson. “Visiting time is almost over.”

Yuta nods and moves to get up. Ten follows his queue, but can’t help but notice that the old lady has grown her confused and slightly distressed.

“Yuta?” She says. “Where are you going? And who are you?”

The woman at the door looks at her kindly and sadly. “Hyejoo, ma’am. We met last week.”

“We have to go now Grandma.” Yuta cuts in. Mrs Nakamoto turns to him, her expression immediately changing back to a much calmer one. “I’ll be back to visit on Saturday, if that’s okay?”

“Naturally, whenever you like.” She kisses him on the cheek again, holding his hands between her own. Then she glances to Ten, who had been standing, slightly disoriented, by the door. “What about you Tennie, will you come see this old hag as well?”

“Grand-”

“Of course I will nana.” Ten cuts in before Yuta can protest. He takes the other’s place at her side, is elated by the way she holds his hands too. They’ve grown bonier after all this time, smaller than he remembers, but just as soft. “Probably not on Saturday, but I could come by next week.”

The look of absolute joy he gets in return for that is worth a million bus rides. Hyejoo ushers the two of them out of the room with a kind but firm hand, Mrs Nakamoto waving as they go. As soon as they get out of the room and the cover of her warmth is gone all Ten wants is to leave the building, far away from the bleak hallways and people in scrubs. He practically runs out the door, Yuta following him without question. It’s not until they’re outside the building and its garden, leaning against the outside of the gate for breath, that Yuta speaks up.

“She has dementia.” He says quietly. Ten looks up at him, somehow surprised and unsurprised all at once. Some part of him had figured that out while they were talking to her, but it doesn’t make hearing aloud any easier. Kind of the reverse of how he’d felt that she was still alive. At his lack of response, Yuta keeps talking. “It started out with the small things: not knowing where she left the keys, leaving the house and then forgetting why… Had to move her into the home when she started attacking the neighbours, not knowing who they were or why they were in ‘her’ building. Even if she’s having a good day now, like today, she can’t remember who most people are.”

His voice fades out simply like he’s run out of battery, kind of powering off into silence at the end. He stares at the sky, not meeting Ten’s eyes. That’s for the best, no expression the younger could pull feels like it would truly convey the depth of his emotions.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles, and he is. For a lot of things.

Yuta shrugs. This is clearly a conversation he’s had before. “It’s okay, at least she’s still with us; some days. It hurts when she’s not… When she doesn’t know who I am, but it’s worth it for the rare times when she does.”

“That’s… I don’t even know what to say.”

Another shrug. “It’s fine. Someone has to do it, and I’d rather it was me than anyone else in the family. It’s why I moved back here.”

Ten nods. That makes sense. Yuta was always closer to his grandmother than to his other family members, and that worked both ways. It was part of why he was confused － and a little resentful － when the other had decided to move back to Japan for college. It was no secret that he was not that close to his family there; it was one of the things they’d bonded over. At the time it had felt like betrayal and abandonment, not only of him but of Mrs Nakamoto as well. For years Ten had thought that maybe Yuta hadn’t cared after all. But if he had uprooted his life and moved back here just for this… Maybe he did care. About them both.

That thought makes Ten feel brave, brave enough to answer a question that’s been nagging him for days: “Why didn’t you tell me you’d come back?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me.” Yuta has the decency to look sheepish. “We didn’t exactly end things on the best of terms and, well… I thought you’d probably be better off without me waltzing back into your life.”

Oh, it hurts to hear that. Not only because of how untrue it is, but because it was the exact same thought process that Ten had followed back when he was eighteen that had ultimately led to their untimely split: that Yuta would be happier without him. He had truly believed that. It was what had led him to stop replying to messages, stop sending letters and be reticent to answer the phone. And maybe, just maybe, if he hadn’t done that, everything would have gone very differently. Better.

Instead of sharing that hurt though, he opts for a breezy response. “Well that’s bollocks.” He says with a huff. Yuta raises an eyebrow at him. “Sending me a text to let me know you were in town would not totally uproot my life. You’re not that all-powerful.”

The elder laughs, a loud, cheerful sound. Like music. “Geez, thanks. I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

“Next time? Oh no, no chance. I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” Ten jokes, nudging him in the ribs. Then he realises what it is that he just said. “Uh, I mean- Not like… Not like that, but like… I meant-”

And Yuta, he just smiles; reaches for the other’s hand. Tentatively, slowly, their fingers intertwine. “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.”

Ten stares at their hands like they’ll disappear if he stops looking at them. Shockingly, they don’t. God, he feels sick in the best way possible. Like so giddy he’s nauseous kind of sick. What on earth is happening? He’s not sure how he pictured this visit going, but this certainly wasn’t it.

“Good.” He smiles back. It’s obvious that neither of them are going to say anything about what’s happening between them, not yet, and he’s okay with that. “Let’s go back into town then, I’m tired of the suburbs.”

“Not one for the quiet, suburban life?”

Ten doesn’t even dignify that with a response.

***

Johnny is having a house party, or, at least, what their friend group has come to call a house party. It’s not, not really. For one there’s a limited amount of alcohol, and no one gets shitfaced, and it all ends at like midnight if not earlier so everyone can go home and sleep and relieve whatever poor baby-sitter is looking after their kids. Because, you know, they’re old now. So really it’s just a “party” (read: gathering) at a house; which is an idea that Ten has always found rather boring. He usually goes out of courtesy alone, and because it’s one of the only chances he gets to see his friends without their spouses/ children/ work colleagues/ other annoying people that he hates being around. But this time is different. This time Yuta is coming as his plus-one.

Ten knows how his friends feel about the whole “Yuta thing”. Surrounding that particular issue, his friends can be divided into two even categories: his newer friends who think it’s super exciting and can’t wait to meet the japanese man, and his old friends who watched the absolute trainwreck that their relationship became last time and can best be described as weary. Honestly he doesn’t know what all the fuss is about.

It has been almost six months since he encountered Yuta in the supermarket. Six months of just hanging out and getting a drink. Six months of talking. Four months of almost incessant texting. Three months of meeting every single Saturday to go visit Mrs Nakamoto, slowly turning into twice a week. Two months of having dinner at each other’s places on some weekdays, because they both live alone and it’s nice to have company. And that’s all it is, company. They’re just really, really good friends. Really good friends who used to fuck and dated for like three years and then had a bad breakup. It’s chill.

It frankly annoys him a little bit to see the cautious look that Johnny gives the two of them when he opens the door, the way that he looks Yuta up and down before offering him a forced smile. Many of the other guests at the party, even those that Ten does not know very well, react the same way. Of course there are expectations, such as Xiaojun, Yangyang and Hendery, who just like always are nothing but bubbly, friendly and enthusiastic. There are even old friends, namely Sicheng, who seem genuinely glad to see him, wrapping Yuta in a hug too long to be just a polite gesture.

Despite these kinder faces － Ten knows deep down that his friends who are less than inviting are not unkind, they’re just worried － the atmosphere remains thorny enough that the two of them soon give up on mingling. To be exact Yuta gives up, slipping away quietly about an hour in, and Ten follows after him. He finds him round the side of the house, leaning against the wall near where Johnny’s car is parked.

They greet each other with a soft “hey”, neither of the two acknowledging the reason they are out here at first, and fall into a mindless conversation that neither of them are particularly invested in. They’re very good at that; not talking about things. Ten is halfway through a tale about one of Hendery’s recent exploits when he notices the distant expression that the other bears.

“Yuta.” He places a hand on the elder’s arm, making him jump. “You with me?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” He repeats the word a few more times, as if it’s foreign on his tongue. When he looks up there’s something in his eyes that Ten can’t quite read. “Johnny and Kun don’t like me very much, do they?”

It’s probably true, but Ten doesn’t want to be the one to admit it. Instead he goes for a playful shove and what he hopes is a teasing tone. “Well, you are the boy who broke their best friend’s heart.”

The elder hums, and it’s not a happy sound, which immediately makes Ten feel awkward. Almost as awkward as the lull in the conversation that follows, which is strange for them, because usually when they don’t talk they just fall into companionable silence. The fact that he’s not used to it somehow makes it even worse. It feels wrong.

Desperate to make it stop, Ten searches his brain for anything to talk about, but the sound of the party in the background makes it so that everything he thinks of leads him back to the people inside it, with then goes back to the fact that those people have an issue with Yuta, which in turn is due to past events that the two of them still haven’t discussed. He tries to think of something. What TV show did he watch last night? What music was on the radio this morning? What workplace gossip did he hear this week that he hasn’t already told-

“I thought I was going to marry you, you know.”

Whatever words Ten was going to say get stuck in his throat in a strangled sound. “You what?”

“When we were dating back then.” Yuta says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I always thought that that was it, that we were going to be together forever. Even though we were so young, to me we were endgame, if that makes any sense.”

Ten doesn’t so much as nod. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s like Yuta’s crawled inside of his brain and brought it all out to the surface, because everything he just said is true for him as well. He had known they were too young, but in his mind Yuta and him were going to be in love for the rest of their lives. He had thought he would never love anyone else and, if he’s being honest, he hasn’t really. Sure, he’d had other boyfriends, even some long term relationships. But he’d never loved someone else the way he loved Yuta. In a way, that means that the elder is still his endgame. Not a happy end, but the end all the same.

He would rather not to ask the question that comes out of his mouth next, but he has to know: “What changed?”

The answer, however, is so different from what he expected that he doesn’t know how to feel. “You changed, Ten.” Yuta sighs, runs his hands through his hair. Ten watches his fingers twitch, clearly itching for a cigarette. Now that he thinks about it, Yuta hasn’t smoked around him for weeks. “Well, that’s not fair, I guess we both changed. But you stopped texting me, and you stopped picking up my calls, and whether I said something to you, even if it was a joke, you would get so defensive. I never knew why.”

“You never asked.” Ten points out.

Yuta just smiles, sadly this time, because both of them know that there’s absolutely nothing he can say to that. The sound of people inside grows suddenly louder as someone comes out the front door. It swings shut quickly, deafening them once again; all those people, all those friends. All of those who have their homes and their families and all of the things that Ten and Yuta don’t have, even though they are all the same people who always used to joke about the two of them being the first to tie the knot. People whose life may have started a little later, but somehow ended up so much better.

Someone, not a person Ten recognises by their footsteps, makes their way down the stairs on the front porch and out across the gravel on the front lawn. A car beeps, followed by a door opening and closing and the sound of the ignition. Neither of them speak the entire time. It’s like they are hiding, worried that if they make a sound they will be discovered. Maybe Ten is hiding, after all.

“I’m sorry.” He says. It’s a phrase that surprises both of them. “I don’t know why I got like that, I really don’t. I’ve thought about it for years, how foolish I was. I guess I just thought, somewhere in my teenage mind, that you had left me behind. You had this cool college life and all these new friends and this whole new life and I-” Fuck, it’s hard to be honest about these things. “I was just me. I lived in the same old town and had barely just passed high school and was working part time at a family dinner and I just… I thought the only thing stopping you from fully enjoying your new life was me.”

Yuta lets out a long breath, somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “So you decided to let things end?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. Here he goes again, getting all defensive. He’s not sure he’s changed all that much after all, at least in terms of maturity. “I thought you would be better off without me.”

“Fuck Ten.” This time the elder sucks a breath inwards, between his teeth. The way he plays with his hair is almost manic now, rapid and non-stop. “Fuck. I can’t believe- How the fuck was I supposed to know that? I can’t read your mind, for christ’s sake. If you had just told me-”

“You never fucking asked!” Ten cries loudly, much too loudly. The sounds from indoors quieten for a second, the music turned down several notches. They keep quiet again, this time their silence filled by the sound of Ten’s heaving breathing as he tries to stop the tears at the corners of his eyes from falling. The volume goes back up, once again granting them anonymity. “You never asked Yuta, not once. You never checked to see how I was feeling, and I didn’t want to bring it up because- Because-! I was just a kid, Yuta. I was a kid and you were suddenly an adult, and I was weak and small, and broken, and I was so sure that if I told you how I felt you would see me that way too.”

He’s crying now, ugly and sobbing. It’s a good thing that no one came out to check on them, he’s not sure what he would have done if confronted by one of his perfectly put together friends seeing him in this state. He hates it. He doesn’t want any of them to see him, not even Yuta, so he buries his head in his hands and turns towards the wall, hoping to just fade away and be forgotten.

But there are warm hands on his shoulders, and gentle touches to pry his hands away.

“Ten.” Yuta says his name softly; so tender that it just makes him start crying even harder. “I would never have thought about you that way.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do.” The hands are off his shoulders and onto his cheeks, and Ten doesn’t fight them, lets himself melt into it. “I know that I would never, ever see you that way. Not then, and not now. I could never see you as anything other than perfect.”

“I’m not!” He really does feel like a child, whining and screaming. “I’m not perfect at all, you don’t- You don’t even know me Yuta, not anymore.”

“I do know you.” And the touch is still gentle, but it grows firmer. It makes sure that Ten listens to every single word. “I know you’re not a morning person. I know you doodle on your sticky notes from work, and also on all the notepads you have around the home, and that you’re an amazing artist. I know that you take three sugar cubes in your tea, which is way too much sugar, by the way. I know that you don’t actually like tea either, and that you just drink it because it’s what grandma likes. I know that you don’t like smokers and you won’t tell me why yet, and that’s okay, because it’s your secret to tell and mine to listen to whenever you decide the time is right. I know that you worry about being left behind by the people you love, even though you never say so, and I understand, because I worry about that too. And Ten, I don’t understand what you went through when we broke up, or in all those years that we didn’t talk. I don’t know what you were like during that time, and I regret that; the fact that I missed out on that part of your life. But I know who you are now, and I know who you were then, and both of those versions of you are perfect.”

Ten isn’t crying anymore. He stopped a long time ago, somewhere between the mention of Mrs Nakamoto and the talk of his life worries. Honestly he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t remember anything at all of those moments, except the sound of Yuta’s voice, the words he was saying, and the look in his eyes as they stared into his own.

He barely even remembers what he says next, or why he says it.

“You have four piercing holes in your left ear, even though you never wear earrings anymore.” Ten whispers. “You hate your job, but you took it anyway because it’s near the bus stop that takes you to your grandma’s nursing home. You don’t smoke when I’m around anymore, because you know it makes me uncomfortable. When you laugh you’re starting to get these little smile lines around your eyes, it’s cute.” Yuta laughs, a quiet sound. Low and behold, there those little lines are. “You use less Japanese emojis when you text than I do, which is weird because you’re the one who showed me to use them in the first place. You also make doodles, most on your own arm, with sharpie, and you’re very bad at covering them up or erasing them properly. You were the kindest, most genuine,” The words spill out of his mouth without direction or purpose, long out of any domain which he can control. “most beautiful person I’d ever seen when I first met you, and you still are now, and I have never, ever loved someone else the way that I love you.”

Silence. The words have ended their tirade, apparently content with having finally made themselves known. They had been waiting, Ten thinks. They waited a very, very long time.

Yuta says nothing, not yet. Perhaps his own words haven’t caught up. That’s okay though, they have time. Somehow, against all the odds, life gave them more time. More time to get to know each other again, to rediscover themselves. More time for Yuta to hold Ten’s head in his hands as he smiles; no longer a sad smile, despite the tears that spill silently down his cheeks.

“We are going to have a talk. A very long talk, preferably during the day, and when neither of us have had any alcohol to drink. Maybe over coffee.” Yuta announces. It’s hard to take him seriously when he’s crying.“We’ll have this talk, and we will sort through everything, because we can’t just leave things like this and pretend all is fixed. We will do all of that, but first I’m going to kiss you, and I’m not going to stop kissing you until someone catches us back here and calls Johnny on us the same way he called the principal that one time as a dare.”

And Ten laughs, because how could he not? He laughs and laughs, and Yuta does too, and when they’re done he closes his eyes and leans up on his tiptoes, just like he always did. Just like every other time they’ve ever made out round the back of a friend’s house at a party. They really, really haven’t changed at all, he supposes.

When Yuta kisses him, there is no movie moment. There are no fireworks behind his eyelids, or butterflies in his stomach. His leg certainly doesn’t kick up, god knows he would probably fall over if it did. It’s not like any of his friend’s great romances, passionate and exciting; and he doesn’t mean that in a bad way. When Yuta finally kisses him again it is easy, so easy, so perfectly natural. It’s warm and soft and a feeling that he knows so well and yet no longer knows at all, but can't wait to get to know again. It’s every kiss they have ever shared, and every kiss they will share from now on.

And, after all the years and all the tears, with those familiar lips on his, Ten is home.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed reading <3
> 
> If you want you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rosebudqin) or [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/cherrylilies) !


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